


Through the Valley of the Shadow of Death

by CherryBomchelle



Category: John Wick (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Gen, Inspired by Game of Thrones
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-18
Updated: 2020-06-23
Packaged: 2021-03-04 00:20:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 11
Words: 19,744
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24784522
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CherryBomchelle/pseuds/CherryBomchelle
Summary: "God have mercy on anyone foolish enough to get in the way of John Wick. He's vindictive, an unrelenting storm. And a beast of Hell walks by his side, ready to rain fire on all who stand against him."
Relationships: Helen Wick/John Wick, John Wick & Original Female Character(s)
Kudos: 9





	1. I’ve Been Waiting

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _  
> **it’s hard to miss you when you’re always on the tip of my tongue**  
>  _  
> 

He had been hearing her cries for days. From the moment he walked up to the service for Helen's funeral, he could hear the wild calls somewhere over the horizon.

As he read the note from Helen, he thought back on all the things he hadn't told her.  
_You still need something, someone, to love.  
_Even as he pulled the puppy out of her carrier, his mind was elsewhere, stuck on the primal cries he'd heard earlier that day.

One of the many things he hadn't told Helen--one of the biggest things, something he absolutely should've told her--was that he had a daughter. It was an unconventional arrangement, granted, but he felt strongly all the same that he was her father. He could just never think of a way to tell Helen about her, especially since he hadn't seen her in five years, longer than he'd even known his wife.

He knew, by what he'd heard earlier that day, that his daughter had returned to him. He wasn't entirely sure how the bond between them worked, if it even still held as strong as it had been, but he assumed that on some baser level she'd sensed his sadness, his need for her.

Over the course of the next two days, after everything that had happened, he forgot he'd heard anything altogether. He never got a sense of her presence. He didn't hear her anymore (though, admittedly, it was hard to hear anything over the adrenaline and blood pumping in his ears and the pounding dance music in the club). It was easy to forget something that wasn't there when his rage was all-consuming.

Then, as he walked into Viggo's church, he heard her again. The same feral wail from the funeral. He almost thought maybe he'd gone insane and he was simply hearing things. She hadn't made any sort of contact or appearance in five years, after all. Why would she come now? Why would she care enough to come when he needed her? Why would she even _know_ he needed her?

He heard her again when he killed Iosef, far in the distance. And once more, as he entered Marcus's home. He could feel her then, close and warm. Burning, even.

And then he went after Viggo.

As he pushed the SUV to go faster, as he pushed it to catch up to Viggo's caravan, he saw a shape the size of a car fly over him, and then, a stream of flames spilled forth from its maw, encompassing the SUV in front of him. He could barely react in time, swerving to avoid a collision and then struggling to right his car. Again, he pushed the vehicle to catch up, but it didn't matter. Another torrent of fire cut across the sky, creating a barricade of flames ahead of them. The front SUV screeched to a halt, followed by the middle car, followed by John's. He--or anyone--barely had time to get out of their vehicles before more fire rained down on them. One man was taken out almost instantly, while another fought to put himself out before receiving one of John's bullets to the head.

He knew it was her. Even though he hadn't gotten a good look at her yet, even though he hadn't heard her yet, he just knew she'd finally decided to reach out, to come to him. He could feel her lurking in the dark as he fought Tarasov's men, watched as another man burned before he got too close to hurting John too severely. Another man disappeared into dark jaws he could only just make out, legs flailing as a slim, night black head shook its prey vigorously. The body was dropped to the ground moments later.

He heard her lift off into the sky as he and Viggo battled to the death, hovering and circling, prepared to enter the fray should the need arise. He was surprised that, even in the heat of combat, he could sense her, feel her motivations and intentions. It was almost as if no time had passed.

As Viggo slumped and John began walking away, he felt her calm just a fraction, moving to follow him. His entering a car didn't seem to deter her, matching pace with the vehicle easily. He wasn't entirely sure how--whether it was because the car was busted or because she was simply capable of such speed now that she was older, grown up even. He had a lot of catching up to do--five years of it. As he drove, he wondered idly if she'd even let him try, or if she'd simply come because he was distressed and would leave the moment he returned home.

His thoughts slowed after a little while, as did his grip on the wheel, as blood loss overcame him. He didn't notice the SUV drifting to one side, nor did he see the wall steadily approaching. Not until it was too late, and the car bumped lazily into the concrete. He opened the door and collapsed to the ground, barely managing to crawl to the wall he'd hit. Despite her best efforts to protect him, he thought maybe this was the end. As he pulled out his phone, he heard a weighty thud behind him and assumed it was her. After all, she was probably tired.

The video of Helen played, and from behind him came a light warble, and he could hear in her voice that she wanted him to get up. To keep going. He couldn't discern who was telling him this, however. Maybe it was both.

Finally, as the video came to an end, she approached, gripping his shoulder firmly to pull him up to a stand.

As he adjusted to standing on his own, he finally got a good look at her.

His daughter had definitely grown, that was for sure. Now the size of a decent car, perhaps even a smaller SUV, she held herself proudly and strongly. Her scales were darker than he remembered, now a raven black with the characteristic purple sheen. Her throat and chest were lined with royal purple streaks, with matching "eyeliner" gracing pronounced eye ridges. The same hue traced the tips of her wings, some veins creeping deeper into the membrane of skin that attached to her sides. He noticed that her head had really developed, no longer a slightly triangular oval but now a fine, defined viperine shape, giving her the look of a deadly predator. He supposed that wasn't too far from the truth.

And finally, his eyes met hers, and they were the same stunning violet he remembered. They bore into him, the pupils nothing more than judgemental slivers of inky black. He could stare into those eyes forever--they were beautiful and captivating. _Mesmerizing._ He knew, deep down, that this was a natural trick to lure him in for her to strike, but he didn't care. Something in him knew she'd never hurt him. She'd had plenty of opportunity already and hadn't acted on it. And hell, she'd just killed for him. Though, now he did wonder, just a bit, if she was a maneater. She was certainly big enough--she had taken the entire top half of a fully grown man into her mouth.

"Good to see you, Viper," he greeted her simply, unafraid of the possibilities, before moving into a walk (well, more of a hobble). Her gaze followed him, as well as a gentle chirp. He could hear the concern in her voice and waved her off. "I'll be fine."

He found himself at a humane society, and he looked back to where Viper still stood, watching him expectantly. He felt bad, almost, that she couldn't join him inside. But he needed urgent attention at the moment, and couldn't afford to sit around feeling guilty, so he walked in and got to work. He could hear her through the walls, softly trilling in attempted conversation. He didn't speak dragon, unfortunately, but he did get the sense that she wasn't necessarily saying anything important.

It wasn't too long after that he walked out, and he could see the surprise in the dragon's eyes as she took in his new companion--a dog. A lot smaller than her--John was sure she could swallow the canine in a single bite if she wanted. She didn't seem to, though, as he remained untouched. However, the lines of quills along her back quivered as she hissed, shaking the thin layer of skin lining them. The look was intimidating, but he could tell that she was simply jealous and unsure of her new... _sibling_. He wasn't sure that would catch on, but for the moment it was an amusing thought. 

"Let's go home," he said to the two, leading the dog in the direction they needed to go. He was a ways off before he heard Viper take off, lifting high into the night sky, beyond the reach of human eyes. He knew, though, that she was following him. Finally, after five years, she was home and they were reunited. Despite everything that had happened over the course of the last week, John couldn't help feeling... content.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lord help me i do not know what i am doing


	2. Home

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _  
> **if you get lost you can always be found**  
>  _  
> 

As John stepped out of the car, he watched as Viper sailed over the house. It was much the same as she'd no doubt remember it, though unfortunately, she was much too large now to fit inside. She didn't seem bothered, though, as she came down from her fly-over, landing in a sunny patch of grass with a satisfied growl. He watched as her sweeping gaze took in everything from the big open windows she used to bump into to her new " _brother_ " sniffing at the grass near her feet.

She was a lot sharper, he noticed. Her focus was intense, never breaking until she seemed satisfied with what was no doubt an internal assessment. When the dog surprised her by bumping her tail with his nose, she snapped in his direction with breakneck speed and simply glowered, and he could almost hear the gears turning, feel her deciding if the dog was a risk or not. She didn't stand down for a few moments, and he wondered if maybe she was trying to intimidate the dog, hoping he'd stand down.

Completely oblivious to the giant reptile about to snatch him up in her jaws, the dog moved on to investigate other things, and the dragon turned that piercing gaze back to John, taking him in with a thoughtful but cautious stare. He realized, in that moment, that she'd done more than just grow physically. The way she watched his every movement was remarkably predatory, and he knew as he watched her that she'd become a master hunter. The only thing that tore her focus from him, albeit reluctantly, was the dog once again approaching her, sniffing at her wing this time. Her fixation broken, John suddenly felt an immense pressure relieved, and though he knew it was unwise to turn his back on such a large, predatory animal, he was free to move once again.

He slowly but purposefully moved into the house, the dog following close behind, and shrugged his jacket off as he made his way to the kitchen. He knew that if Viper truly wanted to kill him, she would've already, and she could any time she wanted. What was glass to a dragon? What was a car? What was anything? No obstacle could hold her back, not at the size she'd grown to. He wondered then if she'd grow larger--she was the only one of her kind, as far as anyone knew. Winston had never been able to find others, or even anyone who knew about actual dragons. A living relic, he'd called her once. Something left over from the days of knights and kings.

He'd always felt bad for her. She'd loved him, once, the way a child loves their parents--a sweet, innocent love. Unconditional. And he'd loved her back, the way a parent loves their children--a powerful, unshakeable love. They'd been inseparable. But his love, no matter how strong, could never fill her need for the company of others of her kind. It was a yearning that, as far as anyone knew, would never be satisfied. She was doomed to be alone for the entirety of her life, however long it lasted.

It was a fate he wouldn't wish on anyone, and it truly hurt him down to his core that it was the one thing he could never rectify.

As he looked about his kitchen, looking for something to feed himself and the animals, he realized he hadn't exactly prepared to care for a carnivore the size of a small SUV. It was easier when she was smaller--they sold steak cubes and strips that were easy for her to swallow whole and usually filled her up pretty quickly. Now, he was more than positive that those wouldn't do, and he'd probably earn himself a bite if he even tried.

He wondered, for a moment, if he could buy whole cow carcasses from a butcher. He'd casually explained stranger things, honestly. It wouldn't be too much trouble to make up a reason why he needed them.

Until, then, though, he was sure she was hungry. It had been a long journey, for all of them, and he knew that _he_ was hungry, and he hadn't had to fly to upstate New York.

The only things in the fridge were eggs and bacon. That'd easily fill him up, and probably the dog as well. Viper, though... well, it'd have to do. He grabbed them and got to work, scrambling the eggs and cutting the bacon. As he cooked, the dog laid near his feet, watching a bird out the window, and Viper... he wasn't sure what Viper was doing, but he could feel her nearby. He could tell she hadn't moved from the spot she'd landed in--it was possible she was resting, lazily sunbathing to rejuvenate.

Once the eggs were done, he spooned equal portions onto three plates and set one down on the floor for the dog, who was polite enough to wait until John had moved his hand away, but went to town _immediately_ after. John smiled to himself before making his way outside. He found Viper exactly as he expected her, and only her eye moved upon his approach, opening and watching him with a careful regard. Her eye shifted from him to the plate as he set it down on the grass, and he almost could've sworn she looked offended for a brief moment before her gaze became blank and passive--a defense mechanism he recognized. She adopted the look whenever she thought she'd been caught doing something naughty. It was meant to fool him into thinking she was just any other docile animal; the trick had worked on Winston and Charon (only once each), but he'd never been fooled by it, namely due to being able to sense many things about her. The connection they shared was just short of telepathy.

Still, he let her have her way, simply pulling back and taking a few steps away. She was slow to lift her head, her eyes still on him. They finally peeled away as she moved to investigate his breakfast offering, inhaling the steam rising from them before taking a tentative bite. Amusingly, one tiny bite for her took nearly all the eggs with it. He smiled again as she looked back to the plate to find nearly all the eggs gone. She wasn't confused so much as disappointed, but she finished the eggs off all the same and he approached slowly to remove the plate, then went back in the house to eat his own breakfast.

As he was cleaning up, he heard the sound of wings flapping to take flight, and he wondered what Viper would do.

It didn't take long to find out; there was a heavy _thud_ on the lawn, and when John went to investigate, he watched as Viper landed next to a freshly killed deer carcass, a foot on the body to keep it from moving as she quickly tore into it. He couldn't look away, admiring the way she honed in on all the best parts with practiced ease, snatching up bits of offal and throwing her head back to swallow them whole. It made him think of dinosaurs and the way they may have eaten. He wondered if dragons were that old as a species, or if they'd evolved after the fact as remnants of prehistory.

There was half a corpse left when she finally pulled away. She was no doubt saving the rest for later, though John wasn't sure he liked the idea of just leaving a half-eaten deer out on the lawn. He knew Viper wouldn't let him touch it--she was still an animal, and an untamed one at that. He was sure she'd be protective of her kills and decided then to never mess with them. So, as she settled back down in her spot to rest, gaze staring out aimlessly over her surroundings, he left her to her peace. He needed some of his own, and that started with a shower.

As he adjusted to having Viper back in his life, he was surprised by how intuned she seemed to be to his own wants and needs. She followed him the night he went to get his car back and helped without so much as a thought from him. He wasn't necessarily the kind to need help, but he appreciated her efforts all the same--it would've been much harder without her.

There were other moments, scattered over the days, where her presence was rather eerily timed. Once, as he was fixing something in the garage, she suddenly appeared with just the right tool he needed as he noticed he needed it. Another time, she appeared at the door with the paper just as he stepped outside to grab it.

And so it went for days, and then the days became a week, followed by another week. They easily developed a rhythm, and for the first time since before Helen passed, John finally felt some semblance of peace.

And then one night _Santino **fucking** D'Antonio_ pulled into his driveway.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> still no clue


	3. Bad Guy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _**i'll be your animal** _

_"Ciao, John."_

The soft Italian voice came trickling into her consciousness, and an eye opened, sliding lazily in the direction of the front door. Even from just those two words, she could recognize the voice of Santino D'Antonio.

She'd met him once as little more than a hatchling, perched on John's shoulder. The two had been amiable then, but now she could sense a certain tenseness to the atmosphere inside the house. She knew, without even seeing him, that John didn't want the Italian there. Slowly, but deliberately, she rose from her spot in the yard, wings lifting her off the ground moments later. She was stiff from sleep, but she carried herself over the house anyway--it'd work itself out eventually; her father was more important.

John could feel Viper in the air, hovering over the conversation like a fly on the wall. He wondered if she'd remember D'Antonio; he certainly remembered her with him. She'd been enamored by him when she was young, and he couldn't exactly blame her. He was a man of charm and presence above all else. He cared about first impressions, even to an infant dragon--though, John hoped some of that was due to fear. Even though she couldn't even breathe smoke at that point, she would grow into something powerful and destructive. A force of nature even the famed Baba Yaga dare not cross.

He motioned for Santino to sit down, and he took the place across from the Italian with a building sense of unease. He could feel Viper growing restless outside.

"Listen, John. With all sincerity, I don't want to be here," Santino said. There was a nervous trill from outside.

"Please, don't," John begged. "I'm asking you not to do this." Something was building, getting closer.

"I'm sorry." Santino pulled out the marker, and John watched with bated breath. "No one gets out and comes back without repercussions." The feeling surrounding the room was near its crescendo. "I do this with a heavy heart, John. But remember, if not for what I did on the night of your impossible task, you wouldn't be here right now, like this. This," and he motioned across the room, across the home John had built with Helen, "is because of me. This, in part, is mine."

The world seemed to freeze for a moment as the tension finally bubbled over. He could almost feel, more than see, the black body crashing through the window just behind Santino. The glass rained down upon the room in slow motion, as Viper struggled to come to such a sudden stop, her body flailing wildly for a moment before she came to a graceless halt and her feet landed clumsily on the floor.

Santino was just as stricken as John, though John had the benefit of feeling this coming since the moment the Italian arrived at the door. For Santino, this was entirely unexpected. He looked behind him, doubtlessly not expecting a fucking dragon behind him. All poise seemed to leave the man as it finally registered in his brain what he was seeing.

" _Holy shit!_ ," he shouted as he scrambled to a stand, facing Viper with wide, wild eyes.

John moved to a stand at a much more leisurely pace, knowing the dragon was harmless, even as she shrieked in the Italian's face. "Dragon" was one of the few languages he wasn't fluent in, but he was pretty sure by the tone of her voice that she was asking Santino who the fuck he thought he was. John was proud of her in that moment, for having the bravery he didn't. She was willing to _fight_ the man--though, perhaps it wasn't bravery after all. Few could go against her and win, and he was sure she knew it.

"Ah," Santino finally said, after he seemed to realize that, for now, the dragon was simply posturing. Intimidating him into leaving her father alone. "This is... Viper, yes?" he asked John.

"Yes," he replied simply, eyes trained on her. His hand motioned briefly, hoping she'd recognize the _stand down_ gesture. She'd always been protective of him, even when she'd been too small to do anything, and he'd had to train her quickly to calm down or else many missions would've ended badly, and he wouldn't have made nearly as many alliances.

She seemed to catch it in her peripheral, as even as her gaze remained locked on Santino, her body seemed to relax some, and she took a step back with a snap in the Italian's direction. He flinched, and it made John smile, just for a moment.

"Take it back," John finally said, returning to the previous conversation. He knew Santino felt the pressure, having a dragon literally breathing down his neck. He could only hope it'd pay off.

"Take it back?" Santino parroted incredulously.

"Take it back," John confirmed.

Santino seemed to be unable to comprehend what he was hearing. "A marker is no small thing, John," he explained, losing patience. "For a man to grant a marker to another is to bind a soul to a _blood oath_."

"Find someone else."

Behind Santino, Viper gave a warning hiss. She was no doubt feeling the atmosphere shift again, and it was easy to tell that Santino was the 'aggressor.'

"Listen to me," Santino insisted, grabbing the marker from the table and popping it open, "What is this? Hm?" He held it up, showing John his own bloody thumbprint. "Do you remember? This is your blood. You came to me, I _helped you_." His voice lowered, his tone becoming softer, more understanding. "If you don't do this, you know the consequences. Not even your dragon will be able to help you."

"I'm not that guy anymore."

"You are always that guy, John," Santino countered, pressing the marker into John's hand.

"I can't help you," John replied, returning the marker to Santino. "I'm sorry."

Santino looked angry and thoughtful, his eyes a darkened cloud trying to decide to rain or storm. "Yes, you're right," he answered tightly, forcing a smile. "You can't. But he can. I'll see you soon, John."

He glanced back to the dragon, eyeing the beast carefully. To her benefit, Viper had decided there was no physical threat to her father, and was now watching the goings-on calmly, head tilted in the Italian's direction.

John could see the interest in her eyes, making him almost roll his own. Of course, even in a moment like this, Santino's natural charm won out.

"She's grown," the Italian commented. "Rather fine now, isn't she?"

John agreed, but he didn't want to encourage the man to stay longer, to admire the dragon too much. Santino was the kind of man to get anything he wanted--and he didn't want him to want her.

He motioned to the door, and Santino wordlessly agreed, the sound of crunching glass following them both to the door. The Italian stepped out and, turning back to face John, looked the man in the eyes. "You have a beautiful home, John. _Buenasera_."

Viper heard the launcher before the glass, and instinctively prepared for impact. She urgently pushed herself into the air, only for the force of the blast to send her reeling.

Her screech filled the night air, no doubt alerting the neighbors. And if that didn't, the two additional blasts certainly would.

Instincts tore at her. Half told her to go after Santino and seek retribution, half told her to find John and make sure he was safe. She simply hovered over the fire for several moments, her mind at war with itself, before she finally began searching the flames for her father. She found him standing in the yard, watching the flames engulf the home.

"Go," he told her after a minute filled with nothing but the sound of the flames hungrily licking at every part of the structure they could reach.

She hesitated, giving him an uncertain trill.

"Go," he repeated, finally tearing his eyes away from the fire to look at her. "The fire department will be coming. Go."

She understood. She still didn't want to leave him, but she had no choice. He gave her no choice.

With one last nervous cry, she began her flight towards the only other home she'd known.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i must be stopped


	4. Eyes on Fire

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _**i'm not scared of your stolen power** _

John didn't stay at the Continental long once he arrived. It seemed like only a breath between his talk with Winston and his boarding a plane. He left Viper alone in New York, something she was unused to. She'd spent her five years away in solitude, out in the wilds of Canada--places she'd never be found, never seen.

She was lucky, now, that her wings alone granted her roof access to the hotel. For the first day, she simply sunbathed in the garden close to Winston, only occasionally providing backup for him if he needed extra intimidation power. It wasn't necessary, really, but she enjoyed flexing her power and Winston found it amusing.

The second day, Santino came.

She could feel his presence the moment he set foot on Continental grounds--an odd feeling, as she'd only ever been intuned to her father. There was an intense bond there, as he'd been the one to hatch her and imprint on her.

Santino had only met her twice before, and the second meeting had been less than friendly.

She shook her head, as if the feelings were simply flies buzzing around her face and the motion could deter them away. It didn't work, of course.

The meeting between Winston and Santino started in the lounge, but eventually made its way to the roof, where Viper stood ready and waiting. Before the Italian had even a moment to process, she released a shrill roar into his face, her frills standing tall and shaking menacingly as blood from her breakfast, spittle, and annoyance splattered unevenly over his suit.

As the roar tapered off, she watched with delight as sheer terror reigned over his features, his baser instincts taking over as all his brain could process was **DANGER**. The longer nothing happened to him, the more the expression turned to rage.

"Would you let this beast kill me, Winston?" he asked, swiveling back to face the manager.

"Mr. D'Antonio, if she truly wanted to kill you, there would be nothing I could do to dissuade her."

The Italian looked back to the dragon to find one violet eye staring at him thoughtfully. _Intelligently_. "Would she be punished?" he asked with genuine curiosity, unable and unwilling to break eye contact.

"She's an animal, Santino. She does not understand our ways. It would be unfair to hold a wild creature to the same standards as civilized people."

Santino nodded, deciding it best not to argue her capacity for understanding human ways. He could tell, simply from the look in her eyes, that she comprehended everything occurring before her, even as her gaze stayed glued to his own.

A sudden, inexplicable urge overtook him as he took more of her in. He knew it was unwise, but somehow he couldn't stop himself. Carefully, slowly, his hand reached out and stopped just before making contact, hovering over her nose as he took a moment to assess her reaction. A growl rumbled deep in the beast's chest, shaking the floor beneath them and shaking him to his core--but not in fear. He could feel the power reverberate through him, felt it combust and consume him from the inside and as the dust settled he found himself breathless.

When his mind came back to reality, he was shocked to find the dragon's scaled cheek pressed firmly into his palm. His breath caught in anticipation of violent retribution, but all that came was a soft trill.

His eyes searched for her own once again, and he found them doing the same for his own.

"D'Antonio?" Winston's voice cut into the moment, and Santino jumped back, his hand jerking back from the dragon's face as if she had seared him.

"Y-yes...?" he gasped, reluctantly tearing his attention away from the dragon to place it on Winston. But it was shaky at best, his thoughts flitting back to whatever the hell had just happened.

"Will that be all?" the manager asked as if he hadn't just seen the moment unfold before him. His expression was as patient and thoughtful as ever, and something about it suddenly grated on Santino's nerves.

"Yes, that will be all," he forced himself to say. "I will see myself out." It took an act of sheer will he'd never known not to look back at the dragon.

As Santino walked away, Viper was suddenly left feeling drained and confused, the gears turning too quickly, dooming themselves to burn out. Once the Italian was gone, Winston turned to give her a curious look, then went on his own way, leaving her alone on the roof, alone with her thoughts.

Despite the sudden exhaustion she felt, she was also restless, and felt the sudden need to exert some energy. She shoved herself off the roof, taking off shakily as her mind and body warred with each other and struggled to compensate for the energy she lacked. She sailed aimlessly over the darkened city, still occasionally wobbling midair.

She wasn't sure how long she flew for, but eventually she couldn't fly anymore, and too drained to even reach the Continental, she found a seemingly abandoned rooftop terrace to rest on.

There was a thud as her wings gave out and she landed heavily on the roof. She didn't even bother moving or trying to hide, simply dropping where she landed and curling up to rest.

She was unsure how much time had passed before an eye peeled open. There was a light pressure on her back, but enough to send her into high alert. She rose slowly, moving steadily to her full height as her frills raised. A shriek began building in her throat as she turned her head, gaze searching out who or what dared to approach her--dared to _touch_ her.

The sound cut off suddenly as her violet eye met a green one, and she realized slowly that the pressure she felt was the presence of Santino D'Antonio. Before she even acknowledged him, she glanced around the terrace, taking in some of the finer decor and expensive furniture.

Somehow, she'd found her way to his penthouse and passed out on his roof. Of course.

She looked back to him, still sitting on her back. The fear of God was etched into his features, as well as a certain thrill. She decided, then, that if he wanted to do this, she would not disappoint him.

Her wings flapped, body moving to something of a stand as they did, and his grip on her tightened. Good. He had at least basic enough instincts for this.

Wings continuing to move, she dug her claws into the floor, before pushing off into a run. As she got closer and closer to the edge of the roof, she felt his hold get tighter and tighter. Finally, she hefted herself off the building, gliding up a few feet before her wings tucked into her sides, sending them into a nosedive.

Santino, who to his benefit had been silent up until the moment they started falling to their deaths, started cursing and pleading in Italian, voice getting louder and more urgent the closer they got to the rapidly approaching concrete below.

He had little time to react as her wings near instantaneously _popped_ open and angled themselves to send them into a sharp incline. Her body was slender enough that tilted to its side and with Santino pressed to her back, she could effortlessly glide between buildings, and she came soaring out of the space between his penthouse and the next complex over like a bat out of hell, carrying him to a dizzying altitude. Still, he held on, and though it got harder to breathe, he'd never felt freer.

He chanced a glance at the beast's face, not expecting her to be looking back at him with such... scrutiny. He supposed there was nothing else for her to look at--the skies were clear and empty but for them.

With a sudden and rather daring thought, he leaned forward on the dragon's back and gripped onto a couple of the quills holding her frills together. He could feel more than hear her warning growl, but he pressed on, curious how far he'd let her go.

" _Volare_ ," he commanded, and with a reluctant huff, she began drifting forward. When he leaned just slightly to the left, her body lazily began turning in the way he indicated, until he straightened himself, to which she responded by flying straight once more. Though she still seemed unenthusiastic to be bossed around, she never actually refused him, following his wordless direction to the T.

He experimented for a while more before deciding on an actual destination, carefully driving her towards one of his properties.

" _Atterrare_ ," he murmured as they neared the ground. She obeyed, lighting down with practiced ease. He slid off her back and smoothed out his suit, before motioning for her to follow him. She did, shuffling after him and sniffing at the ground as they went. He wasn't sure what she hoped to find, but he didn't stop her until he himself came to a stop. To her benefit, she had been paying enough attention to follow his example without having to be told, or bumping into him. 

He swept his hand in front of them, over a multi-million dollar collection of cars. He pointed to one in particular, a white Lamborghini.

" _Fiamma_ ," he directed, then watched as the fire built in her chest, the bright orange glow visible through her skin, until it finally burst forth from her jaws in an eruption that could rival the most devastating of volcanoes. The beautiful white car was gone in an instant, leaving only a blackened shell in its wake. The dragon looked proud of herself, before turning to him for approval.

" _Bellissima_ ," he breathed as the raging fire illuminated his face, the reflection glowing warmly in his eyes.

Viper wondered, as the Italian grinned at the destruction she'd wrought, what kind of trouble she'd gotten herself into.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is bad


	5. Voglio Ballare Con Te

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _  
> **i don't ask for the moon but a dance with you**  
> _  
> 

When Santino slept that night, he dreamed restlessly of a woman with raven hair and piercing violet eyes that watched his every move like a hawk watching its prey. She was a tiny thing, short and slender, but she was attractive enough--not necessarily remarkable, but conventionally pretty enough to retain his attention. What caught his attention moreso than her looks was the fact that he could never seem quite to quite get a hold on her. She slipped easily out of his grasp every time he thought he'd caught her, and her body moved her gracefully over an empty black void as he followed, desperately reaching out to her, trying to touch or grab or hold any part of her. He wasn't even sure why he wanted her so much, why he _needed_ to have her in his arms. He wasn't afraid she'd be gone forever, leave him and disappear. It wasn't a selfish need to possess her. He just knew, somehow, down to his very core, that she was meant to be in his arms. That she fit perfectly in his and he fit perfectly in hers. But she was so fleeting, flittering from place to place, never letting him touch anything solid. Still, he followed her, growing more and more desperate for her to even so much as glance his way. He could see her violet eyes, so familiar and yet so strange, alight with carefree glee. They danced as much as her body, moving to and fro as she took in things he couldn't see. He wondered if, maybe for her, this wasn't an empty space. How did he see it the way she saw it? What did he have to do?

He awoke with a violent start, gasping for breath as he shot up in bed. He could feel her near--the woman from his dream--but he wasn't sure how or where. Was she a resident of the building? Was that why her eyes had seemed so eerily familiar? No, he would've remembered if he knew anyone with eyes like that.

He forced himself out of bed, muttering aimless thoughts to himself as he prepared himself a cup of coffee and stared out of the large open windows, where the dragon lay sleeping. He smiled as he thought of her, and of their flight the day before. Before he could think too long on the past, the future came to him in the form of an alarm--Gianna was dead, and he had a coronation party to prepare for. He had a thought, as he stared down at the alert on his phone, and wondered briefly how it would go. He could arrive in ordinary fashion, or he could arrive in _style_. And he knew that the dragon would not leave him. He may not have been a genius, but he was at least smart enough to know that they were bonded, whatever that meant. It was a query for another time.

Santino hadn't noticed when one of the dragon's eyes slid open to stare at him with that predatory regard that made even John Wick anxious. He didn't see the slitted pupil follow him as he paced through the penthouse, as he entered the bathroom for a shower. As he prepared for his party.

She could feel a plot sitting on his mind, formulated and simply waiting to be executed.

It wasn't until the evening that she discovered what he'd been planning. He stepped out onto the terrace in a tux, the jacket a deep and luxurious navy. She could feel his intention even before he pulled himself up onto her back, and she maneuvered herself into a prime takeoff position as he climbed up. Then, wordlessly, she lifted them into the dusky sky, letting him guide her to their destination.

He'd taken to directing her with surprising ease--like he'd been preparing for it his whole life. Like he'd been _destined_ for it. She wondered if maybe he was.

His guidance took them to the front of an art museum, where countless people were gathered, walking a red carpet as camera lights flashed in all directions. He gave the order to land, but she remained hovering over the landing zone, resisting his command with a displeased growl. She was not a toy to be paraded around the playground!

She knew Santino was used to getting his way, that it was a dangerous thing to say no to him. But he didn't grow angry, didn't try to force her. Instead, he hummed lightly, soothingly into her ear, and she looked back to find him smiling fondly, like he _appreciated_ her refusing his orders.

"Please, _bella_ ," he asked her kindly, and her resolve wavered. "It would mean so much to me if you were to indulge me, just this once."

She gave him an uncertain trill, but moved to land all the same, dropping down onto the red carpet lightly, carefully, conscious of her rider.

He easily slipped off her back, his peaceful smile replaced with camera-ready charm, false in every way--she realized that only she knew that. He sold it so well, and everyone else bought it. But she could see inside him.

She hung back, pupils restricting as the lights of the cameras continued going off. Uncomfortable and disoriented, she gave a warning cry, shaking her head to try to rid it of the spots in her eyes.

Santino looked back as he heard the dragon cry out, and was quick to abandon the man he'd been talking to before. He grabbed a security guard and pulled him to the side urgently. "I need you to get rid of anyone with a camera. I don't care what you tell them, but it's upsetting her," he told the guard, motioning to the dragon. It didn't take a genius to know that an upset dragon was bad news.

The guard and his team made quick work of cleaning up shop, and soon there were no flashing lights to be seen. He made his way to the dragon, placing a gentle hand on the bony ridge over her eye. As she looked up to him, gaze thankful, he was suddenly struck by the familiarity of that stare--the same one from his dream.

He wondered how many times the creature before him would leave him breathless.

He wasn't given any time to ponder it, or even time to check to make sure she was okay. Too many people were vying for his attention, hoping to gain his alliance now that he was soon to be a member of the High Table. Too many people trying to make amends now that he was one of the most powerful men in the world. Too many people simply wanting to take advantage of his power or his money. As he was dragged away by a faceless nobody itching to get in his good graces, he turned back to steal one last glance at the dragon, and she looked back with an immeasurable sadness in her eyes.

Viper watched Santino be pulled away, suddenly sad and nervous to be alone in full view of the public. She'd remained mostly a secret her entire life, but now countless people were aware of her existence. Too many people were getting too close, and her sense of being in danger was overwhelming, sending her up into the air in a flurry of flapping wings and flailing legs. She landed on the roof, taking deep breaths to calm herself. What was she to do? Santino clearly wanted her at the party--he would not have insisted she come here otherwise.

The door to the roof pushed open, revealing Santino's guard Ares. Viper had seen her once or twice before, one of those times being the night they blew up John's house.

The woman carried a garment bag over her shoulder, and she made vague motions with her hands that Viper knew were words but she could not comprehend, and then the woman was gone again, and Viper was alone on the roof once more.

She stared down at the garment bag. She was unsure how Santino knew to send it to her, or how he even knew it'd be useful to begin with. She was unsure she could even go through with it.

She'd practiced the skill before, but had never reached perfection. Each time she tried there was always something deeply wrong and unsettling about it, and she was forced to turn back.

But she'd try. For him, she'd make an attempt.

Santino greeted everyone pleasantly enough. He was all charm and grace at events such as these. Nothing changed the routine or disturbed his practiced calm. Well, nothing until he'd met the dragon.

He was unsure what it was about her, what made them connect so quickly and easily. Was it fate? Chance? Would he ever know? There were things he despised not knowing, things where the mystery took away from the fun of it. But now, with this, he almost preferred never having the answers. The mystique was part of the draw, part of what made him so fascinated by the creature.

His thoughts were pulled away from her by another trying to win his approval, and then his thoughts went into rest mode. He didn't need to think anymore, except to know when to reject or accept offers.

He missed the new arrival, the small and slender woman of his dreams with the pale lavender eyes. Everything he'd arranged for her had worked out beautifully. The dress, black with the same purple sheen as her scales, fit like a dream. The makeup artist had done wonders; she was beautiful without any assistance, but Santino was always one to spoil. He wanted her to feel like a princess--

No. He wanted her to feel like a queen.

Finally, Ares pulled his attention away from the most boring man in the world to point out the dragon wading through the sea of people, lost and dazed.

He smiled, the warmest he could muster, and approached her from the side, holding his hand out for her to take. She looked up to him with wide, wild eyes, terrified and blown with adrenaline. " _Santino_ ," she rasped in an unused voice, and though it grated like sandpaper against her throat in a way that he could _see_ , he couldn't help but feel a few degrees warmer when he heard it, like the ice inside him was starting to melt.

" _Cara mia_ ," he greeted her, his hand finally able to make contact with her, finally able to grasp her own. He pulled it up to his lips, pressing them against it softly, comfortingly. " _Voglio ballare con te, cara mia._ "

She didn't speak fluent enough Italian to understand what he'd said, but she felt it, knew it somehow. "I don't know how," she replied softly.

"Just follow my lead," he encouraged her, pulling her to the dance floor as a slower song began to play. "We can do a basic waltz. They are very easy to learn," he assured her, his cheek meeting her own, noting the softness of her skin in contrast to the hard, sharp edges of her scales. He began leading her, and for the first time, there wasn't even a moment of protest, not even a vague thought or feeling that it was a remote possibility. She held to him tightly like he was her only lifeline in a savage sea--he supposed that wasn't too far from the truth, honestly. Any person in the room would willingly kill her if a price were put on her head.

But he knew, and he knew she knew, that anyone who dared would pay a price worse than death.

The longer they danced, the quicker those thought fled from his mind, eventually leaving only her. The rest of the world was gone, leaving only the empty void from his dream. And suddenly, just like that, he understood what it all meant.

And, just like that, he understood why he could never get a solid hold on her.

He looked up just as the crowd parted like the red sea, revealing none other than _John **fucking** Wick_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it's coming


	6. When the Party's Over

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _**i've learned to lose you, can't afford to** _

Santino barely had a moment to react before John started shooting, but the first thing he did was make sure the Viper-- _his Viper_ , was safe. He gripped her hand tighter, and as he was pulled away by guards, she was forcefully dragged with him. He made a brief call to Ares, before leading them into the Reflections of the Soul exhibit, hoping it would disorient John and give them a chance to escape, or at least a moment to breathe. He knew he had little time, he could hear the sound of gunfire following them, but he just needed _this_ moment.

" _Bella_ ," he panted, pulling her close and looking into her eyes. She looked frightened, and he realized in that moment how vulnerable she must've felt. Stuck in a body she was unfamiliar with, without any of her natural defenses, caught between the man she considered a father and her rider. "If you want to go," he started, already feeling a pained lump growing in his throat at the thought of her leaving him, willing him not to continue; but he had to, for her. "If you want to go, I understand. I would not wish to stand between you two." It hurt to say, but it was true nonetheless. He knew from the bond he shared with her that the one she shared with John was just as powerful--perhaps even more so.

She shook her head, however, gripping his arms with a fear-fueled, vicelike grip. "No," was her response, and even just that short, single syllable was so shaky. But he couldn't detect any hesitance or uncertainty. Though he'd yet to see it at full force, he could only imagine that she had the strong will of her father. He dreaded the day he had to go up against it--if he ever made it out of here, anyway.

He knew when John entered the exhibit--Viper suddenly tensed in his hold, as if preparing to run, or maybe even attack. He was unsure how her loyalties would play out; he wouldn't be upset if eventually her love for John won over her love for him. Unlike many in the world of the underground, and very unlike his own father, he knew John had carefully built an unshakable bond with the dragon from the moment she hatched. He knew he'd loved her, cared for her, treated her from the beginning like the vastly intelligent creature she was.

He remembered the first time he'd met her as a hatchling, perched on John's shoulder and taking in the luxurious party around her with curiosity and distaste. He'd been offended, that the dumb little lizard on John's shoulder had disapproved so strongly of the festivities he'd built. He hadn't known then the full extent of her intelligence, only that she'd had the gall to be displeased and show it to his face.

As he looked into those beautiful, mesmerizing eyes, he sighed and pressed his lips to the top of her head.

" _Mio dio_ , John," he called out, feeling a pang of guilt as the Viper jerked in his hold. He should've warned her--she was already so on edge.

This wasn't how he wanted this night to play out.

" _Mio dio. Ma allora non lo vuoi capire_. The marker is complete, John. You should've just run away." He looked down to Viper once again, and though her gaze was ricocheting around looking for any sign of John, he could almost see a physical tearing within them, the battle between her two loves starting to tear her at the seams. He could feel it in her that she wanted to run to her father, could feel the concrete that held her to him instead, feel the waves that sent her heart in both directions, never fully able to decide on which way to go. He could see in her gaze and feel in her heart the helplessness plaguing her.

He never should've gone to the Continental that day, never should've dragged her into this. It was unfair.

"You know what the Camorra will do to you," he continued, hoping John would stop but knowing he wouldn't. Not until one of them was dead--maybe not until both were. "You think you're Old Testament? No, John... no," he was buying time, desperately, "killing me won't stop the contract. Killing me will make it so much worse." He saw, out of his peripheral, the Viper suddenly look confused, struck by his words. He felt the question building in her mind, the gears turning. He could only offer her an apologetic stare.

"John, you know what I think? I think you're addicted to it. To the vengeance. " He pulled on the Viper, trying to get her to move, and for a moment he thought she might not, but finally the hold on her legs seemed to break and she followed him in something of a daze. More and more, he continued to realize the mistakes he'd made over the course of the night. He should've left her behind--she'd have been safer, and she'd never have had to make these weighty decisions to stay with him or to return to her father's side.

"No wife, no life... no home..." He looked down, met the eyes of the dragon before him. He couldn't bring himself to say no daughter. That was cold, even for him. "Vengeance is all you have," he said instead. He wasn't cold enough to say he'd taken his daughter from him, but he was smart enough to know even she wasn't enough to stop him.

"You wanted me back," came John's reply, and the Viper's head snapped up in what was no doubt his direction. "I'm back." A brief, strangled noise escaped her at that, something pained.

Suddenly they could see John's reflection in the mirrors, and without even thinking, Santino started shooting.

He realized his mistake a moment later, when desperate claws dug into the fabric of his suit. "Please," the dragon begged him.

"He'll kill me, _bella_ ," was his simple, regretful reply.

She understood, he knew she did. But he knew, too, that she didn't like it.

As John got closer, Santino grew more desperate. What the hell was he supposed to do? He looked around at all the mirrors, then down to the Viper, staring at him with so many emotions he couldn't pinpoint even one.

"I'm sorry, _cara mia_ ," he murmured, pressing a kiss to the top of her head before he threw himself, and her with him, through one of the mirrors, and they landed heavily on the other side. She yelped as they came crashing down, and he chanced a once-over of her body before he scrambled up and yanked her up with him. "We need to go."

He pulled her deeper, then stopped at the sound of gunfire. Her head, once again, moved in the direction it came from, and he followed her gaze to note where not to go.

Though he knew it couldn't be John, he couldn't help jumping as he felt a hand suddenly touch his shoulder. He looked back and felt an immediate and immense sense of relief as he took in the sight of Ares.

It was shortlived, however. "Get her out of here," he ordered his guard, carefully guiding the Viper's hand to move its death grip over to the other woman instead. "Please."

Ares seemed torn and Viper seemed... furious.

"I'm not leaving," she hissed, and though he loved to see that fire, now wasn't the time.

"I cannot let anything happen to you," he offered simply, before motioning for Ares to leave.

He could see the upset in the dragon's eyes as she was dragged away, but he took comfort in knowing this was the best for all of them.

Viper wanted to resist, to run back her rider and protect him--even though the one she'd be protecting him from was her father. She'd be unable to kill him, instincts would stop her. They'd rather have her kill herself before she turned on her father or her rider.

As Ares weaved through the mirrors, Viper simply... shut down. There was no point to being conscious of anything at present. She was little more than a ragdoll for Ares to lead wherever she wanted. That was fine, it left the dragon's mind to wander, aimless and strangely calm. Maybe distance from John and Santino was clearing her mind.

She snapped back to reality as Ares started pushing her, and she realized that she was stood in front of an open car. She hadn't been in a car since she was a hatchling, and for a moment she was uncertain what to do. But Ares was insistent, and so Viper carefully pulled herself inside. "Seatbelt?" she asked the woman, knowing she needed one but unsure just how she was supposed to put it on. Ares seemed dumbstruck for a moment, like she couldn't comprehend the idea of a fully grown human not understanding seatbelts.

In her defense, she wasn't exactly human.

The woman grabbed the belt from the side of the car all the same, then pulled it over her hips and snapped it into place. She signed something afterward, but when all Viper could manage to reply with was a blank stare, she rolled her eyes and slammed the door shut, making Viper flinch. A moment later and she was in the driver's seat. Another moment, and they were pulling out and speeding off.

As they got further and further from John and Santino, Viper's head cleared more and more. She felt an immeasurable sense of relief at finally being about to think again, though she still refused to think about much of anything other than them anyway.

The car eventually came to a stop, and when Ares pulled her out of the car and she looked up to see the Continental towering over her, an immediate sense of relief washed over her. She was led inside and into the lounge before Charon could even utter a word, even as Viper tried to protest. The whole of the Continental was sacred, she could be planted right at the front door and it wouldn't matter. No hard could come to either of them.

However, as Ares abandoned her at a table and approached the bar, Viper thought maybe she understood. She'd seen John drink after stressful missions. Though she'd never consumed alcohol herself, she knew it to be something of a calming agent.

While Ares was busy easing her nerves, Viper looked around, taking in the lounge for the first time since she was an infant. Not a lot had changed, even as she realized she didn't recognize the decor. It was still the same cozy place it had been before, made all the cozier as her eyes landed on Winston.

She knew he wouldn't recognize her in this form, so she stayed back, but his presence in the lounge was a comfort all the same.

She turned as someone new entered the lounge, and her expression brightened as she took Santino in. He barely had time to breathe before she was on him, arms thrown around his neck and relief flooded her. "You're okay," she gasped into his chest, pulling him down until his forehead rested against her own.

"I'm okay," he repeated in confirmation, hands coming up to rest gently over her waist.

"My father?" she asked carefully, lashes fluttering as she looked away guiltily.

"On his way, I presume."

She watched as he regretfully tore himself away from her, stalking over to Winston, rage building with every step. She moved away, investigating the bar where Ares still sat, probably used enough to Santino's anger that it wasn't even a blip on her radar anymore.

She guessed the conversation was over when she felt his anger dissipating, and she turned to find him moving towards her with a warm smile. As he reached her, he gently wrapped his hands around her wrist and led her to a table. He all but fell into a chair, a hand tugging her down to do the same into his lap. She landed with a soft grunt, then pressed against him.

Ares joined them soon after with her drink, as well as one for Santino, and she too collapsed into a chair. Time seemed to be at a standstill as they waited for John's inevitable arrival, even as life continued around them. A waiter came and took Santino's dinner order, Winston continued with whatever business he was attending to, people drank at the bar.

It all stopped, though, as John walked into the lounge.

Viper could feel him even before he entered, and she jumped out of Santino's grasp to meet him halfway.

"Stop, please," she begged him.

She saw confusion in his eyes as he took her in, then saw recognition flood them as he reached her own eyes.

"Move aside," he ordered, and it was the first time he'd ever made a demand of her.

She felt simultaneously betrayed and compelled to obey, but something else in her won out and she stayed glued to the spot. "No. I can't let you hurt him," she told him.

"Why?" he asked simply.

"Because he's..." Santino being her rider had seemed like such a natural thing at the time, like it was always meant to be that way. But she had always assumed, as had John most likely, that her father would eventually take that role. "... he's my rider," she finally answered, her voice low and apologetic.

John seemed struck by the weight of that statement.

Not much was known about dragons, and the few sources available on them were shakily reliable at best. But there was some knowledge that was inherent in the dragon itself, and in those it was bonded to.

"You'll die protecting him," John realized, "even from me." His voice was sad, gaze even moreso as it met her own, and he found his expression reflected back at him.

"Please, stop."

"I can't."

He gently moved past her, and for a moment she seemed simply like she just _couldn't_ move, finally broken down by the conflict tearing her in two. Her footsteps felt impossible even as she made them, dragging herself to John's side, hovering, waiting.

He wouldn't hurt Santino on Continental grounds. She was sure of this. Even the Baba Yaga had always played by the rules.

As John approached Santino with a gun in hand and Viper close behind, the man postured confidently, no doubt trying to look better than he felt. It had been a long night for everyone.

"Duck fat," Santino started with a smug grin on his face, "makes all the difference."

He felt Viper's hand wrap around his own, pulling it back gently, urging him to leave.

"Jonathan," Winston's voice cut in, just for a moment, but Santino continued.

"Have you seen the menu here? A lot of options." He knew the point the Italian was trying to make, but he couldn't help but wonder when he'd finally get to it.

"Jonathan, listen to me." Again, Winston tried to get him to back down.

"A man can stay here... a _long_ time. And never eat the same meal twice."

"Jonathan, just. _Walk away_ ," Winston insisted.

"Yeah, Jonathan, walk awa--"

The Italian was cut off by John raising his gun. And he pulled the trigger.

The room seemed to freeze as everyone turned to the sound of the gun.

For a moment, everything was stopped. No one moved. No one breathed. A pin falling to the floor would've sounded like an atomic blast.

Then, the three men finally took in what had happened.

It seemed that even in human form, Viper was exceptionally agile. Her instincts had been just a fraction of a second faster than John's reaction speed, and with her dexterity and quick action, she'd had more than enough time to step into the line of fire before John even had time to realize she was there and stop himself from pulling the trigger.

The bullet tore a hole through her chest, leaving a perfectly formed, slowly weeping circle over her heart. Her blood soon coated the dress she wore, running down her form like a waterfall.

_You'll die protecting him, even from me._

Santino was frozen in shock, looking on in horror as her legs wobbled.

Those lavender eyes that were normally so warm slowly grew cold before him as she slowly drained of life.

Then, her legs finally gave out, and she dropped with a grand finality.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i told you all to stop me


	7. Don't Fear the Reaper

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _  
> **baby take my hand, don't fear the reaper**  
>  _  
> 

Violet eyes fluttered open, taking in their surroundings with fear delicately intertwined with curiosity.

She was in a vast forest, darkened but for occasional dim rays that miraculously reached through the canopy. A thick fog lingered on the forest floor, tendrils wrapping around her body as she struggled to push herself to a stand. Luckily, enough light made its way through that she could make her way through, carefully picking her way through the undergrowth. She kept moving in what she thought was a straight line, hoping that eventually, she'd find her way out of trees. She wasn't sure what would lie beyond the cover, but she felt ready to take it on all the same.

The trees did eventually thin out, but rather than finding herself out of the woods, she instead entered a clearing, perfectly circular and lined with a row of trees that were dead and darkened by fire.

In the dead center of the clearing, much to her surprise, sat Winston. He was at his usual table in the lounge, surrounded by paperwork as always. It was unsettling how out of place it all was, and the fog coiling around her limps suddenly felt as if it carried dread in its vapors, creeping up to the pit of her stomach.

She carefully approached the table and slipped into the seat across from him. He didn't acknowledge her, so her eyes wandered. She realized the whole clearing had been burned, as a thin layer of ash lay over the floor, and she could see no grass underneath. The trees lining the clearing were different from the rest, too. The majority of the forest had consisted of firs, while these looked more like birch, or maybe young oak. Finally, she examined Winston himself. Everything about him was the same, from what she could tell. As she looked down, though, the dread crept back in.

He was working, writing in his books and arranging papers, but everything was blank. Even as he wrote, no words or numbers or figures appeared on the pages.

"Winston?" she asked tentatively, and a strange, hollow echo followed.

Everything about this place set her on edge. She wanted--no, _needed_ out.

He finally looked at her, his expression patient and thoughtful. "Yes, dear?" he asked, like a busy parent coaxing their child to get their question over with so they could go back to their task.

"... Where are we?" she asked in a whisper, and yet the echo still sounded, even louder than before.

"Why, you're on death's doorstep, my dear."

Suddenly she remembered--John and Santino, the Continental lounge, the bullet tearing her apart.

"Oh," she replied simply, bowing her head. "I failed then, didn't I?"

"That is not for me to decide," he reassured her with a smile. "You've fulfilled your contract. You've died protecting your rider. Is that a failure in your eyes?"

"It is if my father killed him anyway."

"Unfortunately, that was not meant for you to know."

"So what is this?" she asked, motioning around them vaguely.

"It takes time to die, my dear. You were hit close enough to the heart that you _will_ die, but far enough that it will be slow. Your brain is still sending signals. It hasn't quite figured out yet that it's over."

"So this is... a fever dream? Is that what it's called?"

"Well, you don't have a fever, but I suppose the basic idea still applies, yes."

"Do I just sit here, then? Wait for the end?"

"If you want," another voice cut into the conversation, and she swiveled around to find Santino standing behind her, surrounded by a cold but entrancing darkness. He held his hand out for her to take, smiling comfortingly as he spoke. "Or you can come with me, _cara mia_. It can be done. You can go on, never feel pain or fear again. Never be pulled in two again. You and I can live happily ever after, forever."

"Or you can fight," John's voice came from the other side of the clearing, bathed in a warm, inviting light emanating from somewhere in the distance. "You can fight, tooth and nail, to go back. You'll go back to us, the real us. You'll go back to all the things you hate about being alive--but you'll go back to all the things you love, too. You'll have a chance for more. You'll have the chance to have love, have a family. Grow old."

"It's your choice, my dear," Winston spoke again, pulling her focus back to him. "But you _are_ running out of time."

"How do I decide?" she asked him, looking from Santino to John and back to the man before her. "How can I possibly make the right choice here?"

"That's the thing, my dear. There is no right choice. There is only the decision and the repercussions that follow. If you decide to move on, there will be nothing stopping your father from killing Mr. D'Antonio, but you will no longer know or care about that. If you decide to go back, however, you will know a pain like no other. Your body will take time to recover. But your rider will be safe."

"And my father?"

"Excommunicado, of course. Whether you live or die, he still shed your blood on Continental grounds."

She sighed. Winston had a point, and she knew she could never fight that decision, but it was still disappointing to hear.

"So if I go back, it'll be..."

"Hard. Painful. But it'll be life all the same."

"And if I don't, I'll be blissfully unaware."

"Yes."

She turned away from Winston, meeting her father's eyes as she moved to a stand, then she turned to Santino, her gaze loving as she considered.

Then, she reached out and took a hand.

The next time those violet eyes opened, it was with a start and a gasp, and all at once air and pain and panic filled her lungs. There was pressure on her chest, and her eyes rolled heavily forward to see bloodied hands pressing on the wound in her chest. Her eyes struggled to follow the arms the hands belonged to, but finally she saw Santino's face hovering over her own. He hadn't noticed she was awake yet, he was so intently focused on trying to slow the bleeding.

As he pressed harder, she let out a whimper, a hand coming up to grip his arm, her touch feather light-- _weak_.

Finally, Santino's eyes met her own, and they were filled with such genuine shock that she wondered just how dire it looked from his position.

" _Bella_ ," he breathed, but she sensed no relief. Only fear, all-consuming and burning him up from the inside. "You'll be okay, _bella_. A doctor is on the way. Please just hold on."

"Okay," she agreed weakly, gaze fumbling around drunkenly to find anyone else. Winston hovered over her, giving her a look she could've sworn was a little too knowing for comfort. Ares, on the other hand, was off in the distance, clearing the room. And John...

John wasn't there.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>   
> 


	8. Stay With Me, Baby

**Summary for the Chapter:**

>   
>  _**  
> i'm asking you, begging you, stay with me baby,  
>  please please stay with me baby** _

Santino hated feeling so helpless, stood uselessly in the hall while Viper was locked away in one of the Continental rooms, a doctor working desperately to save her. He paced and paced, his hands running through his hair so much he thought he might go bald. Ares tried to get him to stop a few times before realizing nothing short of Viper herself walking out the door would calm his nerves.

Winston stood blocking the door, maintaining a silent composure, though Santino knew the man was not as calm as he seemed. There were too many things at stake with the dragon's life hanging so delicately in the balance. As it was, John had gotten away even as he was declared excommunicado, and Santino had doubled or maybe even tripled the price on his head. He frankly couldn't remember anymore. Everything had been so touch and go, everything was blurring together and being engulfed in his worry for Viper.

Finally, after what felt like hours, the doctor stepped out of the room. Santino dared to hope, but as the doctor and Winston whispered amongst themselves and he watched the older man's expression fall even further than the disappointed scowl he'd worn for the last day or more, a black hole opened up in his chest and sucked everything out of him--his hope, his anger, his breath. He was simply left with nothing as Winston stepped over to him and rested a hand on his shoulder with a truly remorseful look.

"Is she...?" Santino couldn't dare to speak further, instead swallowing thickly and nodding towards the door.

"Not yet, no."

Santino was not comforted. "What are you holding back?" he asked. He needed this over quickly, needed the bandaid ripped off.

"The doctor said there is a... _significantly_ low chance she'll make it. Mr. D'Antonio, I think it's time you accept the worst case scenario and make the necessary arrangements." With that, the older man took his leave, and Santino sank to his knees, willing himself to cry, or scream, or do anything. Instead, there was nothing.

Ares came to his side, and he reluctantly let her help him up before he made his way into the room, closing the door behind him. He leaned against it, simply watching the woman on the bed like she was a stranger.

She was so much frailer than he remembered her being, so much smaller. Her skin had paled with blood loss, leaving her a ghost of who she'd been before. His eyes landed on all the tubes and wires attached to her body in various places, and he followed them up to the machines and the fluids keeping her alive.

He wasn't sure what Winston had done for the blood. He imagined a dragon couldn't accept a transfusion of human blood--though, what did he know? Perhaps she was entirely human when she was like this. Or, perhaps the old man had gone and found some lizard blood.

Who could say?

Hesitantly, and with deliberate slowness, he approached the bed, until he could reach out his hand and graze his fingertips over the flesh of her hand, feather-light and fleeting. His touch felt too heavy for her fragile state, his hand weighing more than even he could bear.

Carefully, he pulled a chair over from nearby and positioned it near her bedside, and he sat down slowly. And there he stayed, determined to stay by her side until she woke or until she left the world of the living.

Viper once again found herself in the forest. It was darker, somehow, and the fog was thicker; she got lost a lot easier, and it took her what felt like days to find the clearing. When she arrived, however, she came to a sudden halt at the edge of the trees, staring in disbelief and dismay. The clearing was empty--no Winston, no John, no Santino. Not even the table was present. There was just... nothing.

She felt panic creeping into her veins through the mist that lapped at her knees, and she was abruptly and acutely aware that the mist was trying to pull her down into the depths of the undergrowth. Her blood went cold as she fought the ghostly tendrils wrapping around her legs. She managed to break free by tripping over a tree root, sending her flying back into the clearing. The mist stopped at the edge of the trees, and moved as if testing its boundaries.

Viper wondered how long she had before it finally broke through whatever held it back. If she'd have enough time to make her way back.

After checking to make sure she was okay (could she even get hurt here?), she moved to a stand and took in her surroundings, only to find everything looked the same. Well, of course. It was a forest, that was the problem. It was all too easy to get lost in the woods. Especially neverending death woods.

She circled the edge of the clearing, careful to avoid touching the mist as she tried desperately to find any discernible feature, anything to tell her the right direction to go.

It occurred to her, briefly, that maybe she wasn't meant to get out. She'd had a choice before, and Winston had been there to advise, while Santino and John had been there to guide. But now, they were nowhere to be found.

Was she going to be stuck in purgatory forever? Or would she eventually fade away? How long would she have to wait for that to happen?

No.

She couldn't let herself think that way. There had to be a way out. Something had to give.

" _Cara mia_ ," a voice pierced the void, calling to her from somewhere above.

She turned her head in its direction, desperately searching out the source. "Santino?" she returned the call, her heart thundering in her chest.

" _Cara mia,_ " his voice repeated, distant and distorted. But she could still hear it. "I don't know if you can hear me," the disembodied voice continued from somewhere up above, "but I need you to..."

He stopped, and despite hearing how choked up he was, how hard it was for him to get the words out, Viper let out a desperate and enraged scream. " _Speak, you fool!_ " she shrieked into the void.

He didn't hear her. How could he?

But he continued anyway. "I need you to come back to me."

"I'm trying," she replied with a broken sob, her helplessness finally bubbling over as she collapsed to her knees. "I'm trying, Santino. I don't know how. I'm so lost. There's nothing here, there's nowhere to go." Through the tears flooding her vision, she could see the fog finally beginning to trickle into the clearing, coiling and searching for her.

"I need you to fight. Please, _bella_ , please. Fight for me."

"I'm _trying!_ " she yelled back, before it melted into a wordless scream. " _What do you want me to do!?_ "

There was no way he heard her, no way he even had an inkling of what was happening in this hellscape.

But he guided her all the same.

" _Volare, bella_."

Her eyes widened, and she scrambled to a stand, running with full force to the furthest edge of the clearing. Even as the mist began circling her, tugging her back into the forest, her body began contorting and shifting. Limbs elongated with a series of snaps and cracks. Her body thickened and scales sprouted out from her skin.

And finally, fully transformed, she turned back to the fog rolling towards her and released a jet of flames into the darkness of the trees. The mist hissed as it turned to steam, and the trees caught in the crossfire illuminated her way out.

Her attention turned to the sky, blockaded by the forest's thick canopy, and with a running start, she launched herself into the air, breaking through the canopy like a rocket breaking through the atmosphere.

Her return to her body wasn't nearly as shocking as the first time. For a minute, the only sign of her waking was her eyelashes fluttering gently against her cheeks. She felt Santino's hand next to her own, and as she regained more control, her fingers twitched towards his hand.

His head snapped towards her when he felt her brush against him, and when he saw her eyes open and watching him, he moved to lean over her, forgetting all his earlier concerns as his hand gripped her own and his forehead bumped hers, before his lips replaced his forehead. " _Cara mia_ ," he whispered, and she'd never been so thrilled to hear his voice. "Please, _a_ _more_ , stay with me now."

She could see that the way she looked at him, with love in her eyes, almost broke him. "I'll try," she promised, and she knew it was good enough for him, at least for now.

They remained in that awkward embrace until Santino couldn't hold himself any longer; then, with great maneuvering to avoid all the wires, he joined her in the bed. One arm tucked itself under her pillow, while the other lay across her hips, hand splayed on the other side to pull her closer and hold her there.

She didn't protest.

"How long was I out?" she asked after a while of silence, turning just slightly to press into his chest.

He hesitated, and Viper looked up, suddenly wary of the answer.

"Santino?"

"... It has been only a short while, _cara mia_ ," he finally answered. "A week. But..."

"A lot can happen in a week," she finished, finally remembering her father.

Excommunicado.

" _Sì, amore_."

"I need to go to him." She pushed herself up, arms shaking as they tried to support her weight in their weakened state. "I need to find him--I need--"

"You need rest." Santino followed her up, a hand holding onto her by the elbow. It didn't actually do much to support her physically, but she appreciated having his hold to lean into all the same.

"No, I can rest when he's safe."

" _Bella_ ," he begged as she tore out her IVs and disconnected all the wires. He followed her as she stood from the bed, and caught her as her legs gave way underneath her. " _Bella_ , please. You're not as strong as you were. You need to recover."

"He could die without me, Santino."

"And you could die because of him!" he shouted back, his grip tightening in desperation.

She stared at him with wide eyes, before blinking and pulling herself away. "I have to go, Santino."

He was silent for a long moment, his eyes closed tightly as he rubbed his chin in thought. "I know," he said finally. Another silence stretched out, before he sighed, knowing he couldn't stop her. "He was last seen in Morocco. Will you at least let me take you there, _cara mia_?"

She considered him for a moment, before nodding. "Just, please promise you won't try to stop me. He needs me."

"I know," he answered simply, but she could hear the devastation in his voice.

He forgot that he couldn't hide things from her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> well then


	9. Desert Rose

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _**in the flames, her shadows play in the shape of a man's desire** _

After landing in Morocco, Santino took Viper to the Continental, the last place John had been seen that Santino knew about. The manager, a woman named Sofia, was reluctant to see them, but greeted them in her office all the same. Her dogs hovered over Viper, no doubt sensing she wasn't human but unable to determine just what she was. She kept a wary eye on them as Santino spoke for her.

" _Ciao_ , Sofia," he said while offering his hand and a less than pleasant smile. "I would say it's good to see you, but the circumstances of our meeting are not so nice."

"Santino," she responded simply. "What brings you to Morocco, then?"

"I'm looking for John Wick," Viper cut in, finally looking up from the dogs and to Sofia's face.

The other woman suddenly looked scared. "He's not here," she told them, motioning for them to leave. "Now go. I can't help you, and I don't want to."

"We know he was here," Santino said with thinning patience. "We know you aided him."

"We're not here to punish you," Viper continued as she moved to a stand, a hand moving to grip Santino's own, reining him back. "He's my father. I just want to find him."

Sofia's eyes softened at that, and she gave a weary sigh. "Fine. I can tell you where I took him. But that's it."

"That's all we need," Santino coaxed her.

"I dropped him off at the edge of the desert yesterday. He's following the brightest star of Canis Minor. That's all I know."

"That's more than enough," Viper assured her. "Thank you."

Sofia simply nodded, and the two took their leave of the Continental.

As they stood outside, Viper seeming lost and dazed, Santino couldn't help but worry for her. She was still very pale, and she still had unsteady moments where her legs seemed like they'd collapse under her weight at any moment. It wasn't the time for her to be off trying to find a man out in an endless sea of sand--yet he knew nothing would stop her.

She wobbled as she turned to look at him, eyes wide. He wondered how new all of this was to her, if she'd ever even been across the ocean before. If she even knew there was more beyond it.

"I need to go," she said to him, and he sighed forlornly. He knew the moment was coming, but still, he didn't want her to go.

"Be careful, _bella_ ," he told her, planting a gentle kiss to her forehead.

She made a deep, pleased sound, deep in her throat. It was only human in the way her vocal cords were structured; everything else about it, from the feeling of it reverberating through her chest so strongly that it moved through him as well, to the primal nature of it, screamed dragon. Screamed _power_. It was intoxicating, and he was suddenly filled with the desire to hear it again.

Their relationship was intrinsically physical. Though there was a mental link between them that kept them deeply intuned to each other, it could not exist without touch and even just the act of brushing each other's fingers lightly in passing was enough to strengthen their bond.

Santino decided to take a risk, moving in quickly to crush his lips to her own, one hand placed over her heart while the other gripped the back of her neck, keeping her locked in a gentle hold. At first, the sound that escaped her was one of surprise. Then, he felt more than heard the moan building, could even trace its path from her chest to her throat. He could feel the strength of the sound increasing the higher it traveled until it released into his mouth; he received it with a grin, nerves on fire as the aftershocks of it continued to shake him.

" _Santino_ ," she breathed into his lips, her heavily lidded eyes dragging themselves from his mouth to his eyes. He could see even through her lashes that her eyes were blown. It was a look he loved to see--wanted to see again and again.

"Santino," she repeated, pulling his attention away from fantasies of making her make those sounds over and over. When he refocused, he realized she looked regretful, and he knew what it meant.

"I know," he sighed, leaning his forehead against her own. "Come back to me, _amore_ ," he ordered her, placing one last kiss to her cheek. "Come back to me, and in one piece."

With that, she pulled away, disappearing into the crowd. And he returned to his jet to make his way back to New York.

The journey to the desert wasn't a particularly long one, and the car Santino had rented for her stood abandoned in the sand as she looked out over the dunes, trying to get a sense for her father. It was difficult--even though he was only a day's walk away, he felt so far away, and she still had an overwhelming feeling of _Santino_ filling her senses.

This would be hard.

Making sure she was utterly alone in the desert, she took her time shifting, the pain of the process now tenfold as her wound was stretched to fit the new form. She stood panting as it ended, watching as her blood dripped into the sand. She hoped it wouldn't bleed too much--she was already so weak.

A shake of her head took her away from those thoughts, and then with a great heave, she launched herself into the sky, moving in the direction the faint feeling of home was emanating from.

Night had fallen and the air quickly took on a chill that seeped into the dragon's bones. She felt no closer to John, and for a moment she wondered if maybe she'd flown in the wrong direction. Everything looked the same, for miles and miles out into the sea of sand. Was he even here to begin with? Perhaps he'd been picked up, or maybe he'd gone back.

She swooped down to rest, tucking herself into a valley in the dunes, a heavy sleep taking her as her body finally got an opportunity to heal.

The last thing John had expected to see in this hellscape of a desert was his daughter. At first, as he slid down the dune, he thought maybe she was a mirage. How could she be here? He didn't even know if she was alive or dead; Winston had refused to tell him, insisting on _consequences_. He hoped, if the day ever came where she did die, that he'd feel it, and simply _know_. Their connection was strong enough that he'd felt himself shoot her as if he'd shot himself. Why wouldn't he feel her die? Once he reached her, he placed a hand on her side and smiled as he felt her breathe. Good. Mirage or not, she was alive. He sat down, leaning against her with a sigh. Well, if she was resting, he may as well too.

The dragon's eye slid open as she became aware of a pressure on her side that hadn't been there when she fell asleep, and it moved to see her father slumped against her in sleep. Now that he had made contact, the feeling of his presence was near overwhelming, and she knew he was real. Releasing a trill, Viper carefully moved to a stand, watching as John stirred awake and caught himself as he started to fall over. He looked up when he realized his support had left, and found himself face to face with one violet eye.

"Viper," he said simply, carefully.

She replied with an equally simple chirp.

"Good to see you." Her head tilted in response, and he continued, though he seemed to have trouble articulating what he wanted to say for a few moments. "I... I'm sorry," he finally let it out, and she could see his shoulders lift with the weight of it now removed.

She didn't respond for a moment, choosing instead to watch him as he shifted from foot to foot anxiously. She felt his relief as she bumped her nose against his cheek.

"Why did you come?" he asked after a while, though he didn't expect an answer. Instead, she launched herself into the sky with a shrill cry, flying in the direction he needed to go.

She could've let him ride her. It would've been as easy as when Santino had done it. But something in her deemed it not to be.

It felt almost like a betrayal.

It was another two days before John collapsed in the sand, the last thing he heard being Viper's concerned shriek as she came to a rushed landing at his side.

Before she could even check on him, she was interrupted by the sound of a camel and the smell of human wafting towards her. She took to the skies again, hovering silently and dutifully from a distance.

John awoke on soft cushions inside a tent. Before he could get his bearings, a voice commanded he drink. He immediately looked for his gun, to which the voice reassured him it was still there.

Viper was nowhere and everywhere all at once. He wasn't sure how he felt her so strongly and yet not at all--but it only served to make him more worried. Had they found her? Was she hurt? If they'd hurt her, he'd kill them all.

"Please drink," the man before him insisted, and John realized he was with the Elder. He'd made it after all.

He sat up and took the glass, still trying to get a sense of Viper's position and condition. He'd have preferred both, but he would've accepted even just one. Instead, he got nothing more than he'd already had.

"My son," the Elder spoke again, dragging John's attention back. "How have you come to be so lost?"

"Not lost," he answered, "looking for you."

"You think I speak of your location?" the Elder asked impatiently. "I've never seen a man fight so hard to end up back where he started." The Elder sounded disappointed. He stood, pacing over to where John sat, kneeling down in front of him. John watched him like a hawk. "So tell me, Jonathan, why do you wish to live?"

With that one question, all at once, the sense of Viper came crashing back to the forefront of John's mind, making him reel as the sound of her piercing wail filled the sky, making all but the Elder flinch and prepare for an attack.

None came--Viper wasn't one to lash out unprovoked, at least not from what he remembered. She was more intimidating as a silent, watchful presence, deterring anyone from bringing harm to John or, presumably, Santino.

The Elder calmly turned around as the dragon landed just beyond the tent, another cry filling the silence as the Elder's men aimed their guns at her. "Do not shoot," the man commanded as he began walking towards her.

"Don't--" John tried to warn him, but he was ignored.

Viper, for her part, didn't move to attack, instead turning so one eye could glower at the man before her, sizing him up and taking him in.

"So the rumors are true," the Elder stated, turning back to John. "You do possess a dragon."

"'Possess' is a strong word," John contended. "She's my daughter."

"Your daughter?" the Elder asked with genuine curiosity, and more than a little confusion.

"I raised her. That makes her my daughter."

The Elder nodded in understanding, contemplating John's words as he circled the beast before him. She kept a wary eye on him, a growl rumbling in her throat in warning.

"Is this why you wish to live? For your daughter?"

"And my wife. Helen. To remember her. To remember us."

"So you seek to live for love? For the memory of love?"

"At least a chance to earn it," John said, looking not to Viper, but the ever so slightly darker spot on her chest where he knew his bullet still lay embedded in her flesh.

She may have forgiven him, but that didn't mean he had forgiven himself.

"I can give you one last chance to earn a life. However, it may not be the life that you wish," the Elder told him, returning inside the tent. John bowed his head in acceptance, so the Elder continued. "Complete a task for us and your excommunicado will be reversed, the open contract closed. You will be permitted to continue to live; not free under the Table, but bound to it. Doing what you do best for the rest of your days."

John had expected as much, and yet he was still disappointed. Behind them, Viper let out a low rumble, shaking the sand beneath her feet and John's bones. He wondered if anyone else felt it.

"The choice is yours," the Elder continued, and with it John knew only he'd felt it. "Either die here and now, or continue to live and remember through death."

John hesitated. He knew his choice, knew what he _had_ to do. But knowing didn't make it any easier to go through on it. Didn't make it easier to vocalize. His eyes met Viper's, and just that brief contact gave him enough strength to go through with it. He pushed himself to a stand, and she lifted her head level with his own, a trill shaking her quills.

"What must be done?" John asked as he finally found balance on his weakened legs.

"The cost of your life will be the death of others," the Elder told him. "The first of which will be the man they call Winston."

"What?" John asked after a moment of stunned silence. Winston? He couldn't kill Winston. Viper seemed to agree, releasing a hiss from behind the Elder.

"He has forgotten his fealty," the Elder continued, "neither the open contract nor the excommunicado will be lifted until you complete your task. So if you wish to live, and if you wish to remember, this is the choice you must make."

John had killed other men for less than this.

He knew then the Elder would die by his hands, one way or another. But not now. Now, he needed to get out of there.

But needing to get out didn't make it easier. He stayed silent for a few long moments, the only sounds filtering into his mind being his own breathing, and Viper's breathing, which matched his own and echoed in his chest. He could feel the pain there from her gunshot, felt it put strain on her heart and making it harder to breathe.

His eyes met hers again, and though all he saw was love in hers, he knew that all she'd see was regret in his.

Finally, with the love in her eyes encouraging him forward, he sank to one knee. "I will serve," he grated out, even just the thought of saying it paining him, "I will be of service."

"Very well, my son." Two men brought over a table and set it down in front of him. "Cast aside your weakness and reaffirm your fealty to the Table."

John looked down and saw a chisel on the table, and knew what he had to do.

"Mr. John Wick," the Elder started, before continuing in Arabic, " _I want to see. S_ _how me_."

John slowly slid his left hand onto the table, then looked up to make eye contact with Viper, knowing she'd feel the pain he felt, then he looked to the Elder, staring into his watchful gaze before he grabbed the instrument and sank it into his hand, severing his ring finger from the hand in one seamless strike. He let out a yell, which he heard echoed by Viper.

Without looking up to check on her, he took the finger in his hands, breathing heavily as he slid his wedding ring off the detached finger and held it out for the Elder to take.

The man approached and took the ring. "Thank you," he said, as another man came to him holding a brand. "I accept this offering." He pressed his wound to the hot metal, cauterizing it in a moment. "But I need more."

John's head snapped up, confusion lining his features. What more could he possibly give?

"You must relinquish your dragon to the High Table, so that it may serve us."

John paled, looking back to where Viper stood. Her frills were already raised, a glow building in her chest as she postured threateningly, ready to fight.

"Or," the Elder continued, as if he were completely oblivious to what he was asking of John, "you can kill her here and now. You have your weapon. The choice is yours."

John was beginning to really hate the choices the Elder was offering.

Both were impossible to make. He either doomed his daughter to a life of servitude or ended her life altogether. With heavy limbs and a heavier heart, he walked over to her, running his hands along her jaw. They came to a rest at the point where her jaw ended and her throat started. He knew she sensed something was wrong, felt it in the care she took in being gentle as she pressed her face into his body, the soft little chirps coming from her. One of his hands trailed up to wrap around one of the bony horns protruding from the back of her skull, pulling her closer.

"Do you trust me?" he asked her in a whisper, so low he almost thought maybe she couldn't hear him.

But he knew she had, and he knew she did.

He pulled away and gave her a gentle pat on the nose.

Before she had enough time to even begin processing what was about to happen, he whipped out his gun and shot her in the head.

Her body dropped with the weight of all his sins, and he followed soon after.

"Your fealty is accepted," the Elder said from behind him, and as he watched his daughter's blood stain the sand and her eyes stared at him blankly, he realized he'd never felt such an anger as this one. He had thought his anger at Iosef and Tarasov had been all-consuming. That was child's play, nothing compared to what he felt now.

He leaned towards his dragon, shutting her eyes before forcing himself to stand.

"I wish you good luck on your path," the Elder bid him farewell, and John wasn't sure he'd ever been so glad to leave someone behind. Not even Santino _fucking_ D'Antonio enraged him so. "Zahir will help you prepare for your departure."

As John began walking away, the Elder called to him, "and Mr. Wick," he started as John looked back, " _welcome back_." With that, John turned away for good.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _desert vibes intensify_


	10. High Hopes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _**fulfill the prophecy, be something greater, go make a legacy** _

It was lucky for John and Viper both that no one bothered to check if the dragon was really dead. She was lucky that her scales were like armor, stopping the bullet from entering her brain--it barely even pierced the skin.

The Elder's men had difficulty moving her body, but eventually, she was taken into the desert and dropped unceremoniously somewhere away from the camp.

Once night fell, the dragon dared to open her eyes, taking a quick look around to make sure the way was clear before she lifted off, following the direction she felt John go. It led her back to the edge of the desert, where a car was unexpectedly waiting for her. Leaned against the hood, looking for all the world like he belonged there, was Santino.

"You're late, _bella_ ," he said by way of greeting, and as she landed Viper gave only a disapproving huff. "Come on, then. I have work to get done."

The shift back to human was quicker than the last time she'd done it, but it still left her exhausted, and her wound now bled anew as it was contorted to fit her new shape. She stood in the desert sands, weak and ready to collapse. Santino came prepared, and was quick to approach her, delicately pressing a towel to her shoulder before wrapping her in a blanket.

" _Bella_ ," he cooed softly for her attention.

She looked to him, blinking heavily. "Yeah?"

"Let's get you in the car, hm?" He slipped an arm behind her knees while his other wrapped around her waist, and with little effort he lifted her up and easily sat her in the passenger's seat of the car. "Rest for now, _cara mia_."

And rest she did. From the moment Santino set her down and for the whole drive to the airport, the dragon did nothing but sleep.

Santino watched her from the corner of his eye as best he could, and he took her hand in his whenever the opportunity arose. He could feel her pulse every time his fingers wrapped gently around her wrist, hammering away in her veins as it tried to keep up with her injuries.

He hadn't failed to notice the new wound in the center of her forehead, and though it appeared to only be a surface wound, he couldn't help but feel enraged. Whoever had hurt her would pay, even if it was the Elder himself.

Well, that'd have to wait. Santino had plans for that man, but for now he needed to get his Viper back to New York to finally get some rest.

The arrival at the airport was uneventful. Ares was at the jet waiting for him, and diligently followed him up the stairs into the plane as he carried Viper up and set her up in the bedroom in the back. He wondered if she'd sleep all the way back to New York--if she did, he couldn't blame her. It both stunned him that she'd gone so far in her state and enraged him that she'd been pushed so far in her weakened state.

Hopefully now, with his seat at the High Table secured and John mostly out of the way, she could know some semblance of peace.

As his thoughts moved over to the High Table, he leaned forward to press his lips to the dragon's temple, then pulled back and left her alone. He had planning to do.

Viper awoke with a start as the plane landed. There was a moment of blind panic, as the last time she'd been awake she was being put in a car at the edge of the desert in Morocco. She threw her legs over the side of the bed and stood shakily, but powered through to make her way to the main part of the plane.

As she entered, her eyes landed on Ares, followed by several other guards, and then finally Santino. No one had noticed she was up yet, so she simply hung back, watching him.

She could feel frustration rolling off of him, and her eyes wandered down to a collection of papers he was looking over. His phone sat to one side, lit up with a text. She couldn't see it from her distance, but as Santino read it, his emotions got stronger. So, it wasn't anything good.

The jet came to a stop, and Ares gathered up the guards and led them outside to check the parameter.

Santino took his time packing all his things up, perhaps to avoid responsibility, or perhaps to give her more time to rest.

He still hadn't noticed her, after all.

Finally, as he put away the last of his things and turned to the entrance of the bedroom to retrieve her, he noticed her watching him.

For a long moment, the two simply stared at each other, him with a storm in his eyes and her with love in hers. The toiling waves she could feel rising higher and higher inside him seemed to calm, and the clouds in his gaze cleared, just a little.

"Santino," she greeted softly, trying to hold herself tall and proud. A tight smile pulled at her lips, trying to reassure him she was okay.

"You do not have to fake it for me, _bella_ ," he countered her attempt at seeming okay.

But she didn't deflate, didn't release the hold. "Just let me pretend." He clearly had a lot on his mind--maybe even too much. And though she would still remain there, always, maybe he could at least not worry about her for a few.

"Very well. Shall we take our leave?"

"I need clothes, Santino," she reminded him gently, as she was still wrapped in the blanket from Morocco.

"Ah, yes. You're not wrong. There's a closet in the bedroom. I had several things brought for you, take whatever you wish."

She nodded before padding lightly back to the room, finding the closet quickly and rummaging through. Everything was, of course, of the highest quality. It blew her away, to a degree, but it also didn't surprise her. One thing she'd known most of her life was that Santino D'Antonio was a man of fine taste. Only the finest would do for him.

A colorful, exquisitely soft dress caught her attention, white lace with multicolored flowers strewn all about it. Some of them even matched her eyes. She wondered idly, as she pulled it on, as well as a matching set of delicate lingerie, if perhaps Santino chose it for that reason.

Fully dressed and accessorized, Viper all but pranced out of the room and came to a stop in front of Santino.

She hadn't expected him to be speechless, but for a full ten seconds, all he could think to do was stare, taking in her warm, elegant appearance.

"It appears I chose well," he finally said, his eyes still glued to her.

She simply nodded in agreement before holding her hand out for him to take. He did, then led her carefully off the plane and into a waiting car.

It wasn't long before they received word of what had happened at the Continental. At first, Santino was overjoyed at the prospect of John Wick being dead. But Viper merely paced, her gaze never leaving the city skyline, expression thoughtful.

He knew, if John were really dead, she'd experience a pain like no other. A pain she'd never fully recover from.

So John was alive, then.

It was no matter, in the end. Just another obstacle he'd have to overcome.

He hated the idea of hurting Viper in such a way, but she'd understand. At least, he hoped she'd understand.

It was a few days after they'd been told of John's 'death' that Santino came to her, reaching out for her hand to hold. She didn't fight it, her fingers easily twining with his as her attention pulled away from the darkened sky to look at him.

" _Bella_ ," he started, and she instinctively knew that this was the moment he'd been waiting for--all that planning and frustration had finally reached a head, and they were about to spill from his lips like an overflowing stream. " _Bella_ , I need your help."

It wasn't what she'd expected, but her response was easy, instinctive. Immediate. "Of course. Anything. What is it?"

"The High Table will not hear my ideas. They won't listen to me."

Suddenly a pit formed in her stomach. She dreaded what she'd just agreed to.

"Just keep trying, Santino. They'll see your side eventually."

"I don't have time to wait for them, _cara mia_. Tradition is the enemy of progress, and they are old, set in their outdated ways. They will never accept me. Never accept my plans, no matter how good they are."

"Santino," she warned him breathlessly.

"I've called them all here to New York. I meet with them tomorrow. Be ready."

"... What do you need me to do?"


	11. Emperor's New Clothes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _**welcome to the end of eras** _
> 
> (please listen to dracarys from the game of thrones soundtrack while reading this)

The journey to his father's home in upstate New York had been uneventful. Viper had flown in the night before under the cover of darkness and was waiting for his arrival. It left him only with Ares and the driver.

It was silent the whole ride up. No one talked, no radio played. He was thankful for the opportunity to simply think and go over his plan a few more times.

He knew Viper didn't like the plan, but he knew that she'd follow his command regardless.

As the car pulled up to the mansion's entryway and came to a stop, Santino looked up at it with a certain joyful smugness.

He knew this would be immensely satisfying. He couldn't wait.

It took a while for each member of the High Table to arrive, but he greeted every one with a certain polite pleasantness. His father had trained him well, after all. It wasn't the old man's fault Santino was never one to do as he was told.

Finally, as the last of them arrived, he held his hands up with a jovial smile. "My friends," he greeted them, motioning to the open doors of the mansion. "Please, come inside. As a gesture of goodwill and future cooperation, I have had a feast prepared in your honor."

Everyone filtered into the house, though Santino hung back for a moment just to make sure Ares did not enter, instead instructing her to take the car back to the city. She didn't seem to like the idea, but followed the order nonetheless.

Then, he led his guests to the ballroom with a smile.

The meal was enjoyable enough. It had not been made with him in mind, but it was no less delicious. Only the best for the High Table, after all.

Once everyone was finished eating, Santino stood and clinked his champagne glass, getting everyone's attention quickly.

"High Table," he started, looking out over every one of them. "We have had our differences in the past, this much is true. Many of you are traditionalists, and I admire that about you. It isn't easy to stick to such firm beliefs and customs in this new world. I see now the value of such things."

There was a murmur of agreement among his peers, and more than a few seemed glad he'd finally come to his senses.

"However, there is also value in moving forward. This is a world your outdated traditions can no longer survive in. The people have long since moved past your rules and your attitudes. This is a new era, one that the High Table is long overdue to enter. And I plan to take it there."

"What are you proposing then, D'Antonio? We've already told you we won't bend to your childish whims."

"Oh, sorry, it seems I was not clear. It is no longer up to you."

"Just what is that supposed to mean?" another asked, standing in rage. "You dare think you can waltz in here and do whatever you want? Who do you think you are?"

"I am Santino D'Antonio," he said confidently with a smirk, "the only surviving member of the High Table."

Viper crashed through the window up above them, raining glass down on all those below her with a terrible shriek.

The members of the High Table stared up in horror at the beast, seeming to realize what her presence meant.

" _Fiamma_ ," he ordered, and the High Table watched as the flames built in the dragon's chest before spilling out in a torrential stream. The jet landed on the first man who'd spoken, and he screamed in agony as everything of him was burned away.

The others quickly ran for the doors, only to find them blocked from the outside. "There is no escaping your fate," Santino called after them with a laugh. "You will all die here, and your traditions with you."

"You won't get away with it," one dared to say.

"I already have," Santino countered, motioning for Viper to burn that one next. She obeyed, bathing them in hellfire.

The room was now ablaze, flames licking at every inch they could reach. Even without the dragon's further assistance, it wouldn't be long before they were all dead. Still, he wanted to enjoy their slow, agonizing ends to the fullest. " _Vipera, atterrare_ ," he commanded, and with a heavy thud she landed on the floor, her violet gaze meeting his own as he climbed up onto her back. "Now, _volare_." He gripped her tightly as she heaved herself back up, hovering in the air above the High Table as they continued to try to fight their way out. Some screamed, some turned back to try to beg forgiveness or swear fealty or simply throw curses his way.

He ignored them all.

" _Fiamma_ ," he ordered again, and for the first time he got to feel the fire in her, the way it formed deep in her chest and warmed her whole body, the glow that started at the base and moved its way slowly upward to her throat, the power thrumming through her as she finally released the jet of flames onto the people below.

Some had the brains to run away from the stream of fire, while others simply accepted their fate and let themselves be burned.

Santino watched the chaos around him from atop his new seat. The fire had eaten away at most of the ballroom. One pillar's base had been burned away, sending it sailing down. It landed over one of his former colleagues, crushing them instantly. Another of them ran past Viper in an attempt to make it out the window. Without waiting for a command, the dragon's tail snapped in their direction, sending them flying into a pillar that had yet to fall. A satisfying crunch followed as their spine was all but obliterated by the force.

Once they were all dead, their bodies little more than ash, Santino guided Viper back out the window to soar above the mansion.

Hopefully no staff remained in the building. He had ordered everyone to leave once the food was served.

With little further thought for the safety of others, Santino leaned forward to urge Viper into a dive. She instinctively released a torrent of flames into the building before pulling herself up to avoid a crash.

And so it went for over an hour. In the end, not even the foundation of his father's home was left untouched by fire and ash.

And all of his traditions and rules went up in flames with it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> welcome to the beginning of the end


End file.
